Can I Borrow That?

You know how no one’s making kitten heels this year? It’s so weird—last year every shoe was a kitten heel, and now all the heels are like stilts again. I should’ve bought ten pairs. And now I can’t find the one pair I had. I think my cleaning lady took them. So can I borrow your alligator ones? Just put them by your front door in a plastic bag in case it rains. I’ll swing by as soon as I get a minute.

You know what? Can you put your black pushup bra in there, too? I don’t know what happened to mine. (Cleaning lady, probably!) I’ll return yours as soon as I replace it, and that’s a promise.

Oh, can I borrow that thing you have which steams the milk for cappuccino right in the cup? I’m going to make my famous blondies if I have time, and they go really great with cappuccino. I’ll give you some of the blondies so you can see how delicious they taste with the cappuccino.

You know your convection oven? I’d love to use it, just for the blondies. Hold on—I can get the steamer thing when I come over to use the convection oven. Duh! Don’t worry if you can’t find your big spatula after I leave—I need to use it for the blondies, but I’ll take it home with me, because I think it might actually be mine.

Speaking of appliances, can I borrow that Jack LaLanne juicer you bought when you were on Ambien? It’s probably still in the box at your house, but I’d use it all the time if I had it. I’ll make you some arugula juice—it’s bitter, but it really cleans you out—but you might have to remind me. I’m really busy.

Guess what? For a trade, you can borrow my wok. Scratch that—it’s a present! You can probably get the black crusty stuff in the bottom off with a Brillo pad or a knife or something. Guess what else? You can have my garlic roaster, too—not to borrow; to keep. I’m not sure where it is, so I might have to give it to you later.

Can I borrow your lawnmower? Just the machine, not the guy. Well, the guy, too, but only if he’s finished at your house early.

Can I have your beach house? For that week when you’re going to Umbria? This way, you won’t have to worry about people breaking in and squatting in it while you’re away. People do that. And sometimes they get drunk and use the owner’s furniture for bonfires. It’s a trend. I read about it in the paper.

Can I borrow some of your frequent-flier miles to get to the beach? JetBlue is running a promotion, so it costs only a couple of hundred thousand miles to fly there. The offer expires in about three minutes, so get back to me right away, O.K., sistah?

Do you know about Kickstarter? You should! It’s this great online thing where you ask people to give you money for your arts project. Go to my Kickstarter page to see what I’ll be working on while I’m at the beach. I know my project sounds a little like your project, but I’m going to do mine in a different way—with puppets, and much more cement.

It takes about two seconds to become a donor on my Kickstarter page. Then forward the link to all your friends, and tell them that if they don’t donate in the next twenty-four hours bad fortune will visit them. Don’t scare them; just mention it.

If I don’t have time to make the blondies, just forget about the convection oven and the cappuccino thing. I do still need the kitten heels and the bra, though, and the spatula.

By the way, is your husband good with machines? My printer needs a new toner cartridge, and I can’t remember how to put it in. You know what? Just send him over later to put the cartridge in, with an extra, if you have it, and the juicer, and my spatula. And the bra and the heels, and two Martini glasses and some small green olives. I’ll be home all evening.

You know what? Send him with that Wedgwood dessert plate. If I have time to make my famous fudge, I’ll send him home with some on the plate. You can return the plate later, no problem. ♦

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